


The Swordsman, the Strategist, and Strength

by mocinno



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, M/M, Sparring, i know there's "angst with a happy ending" but is there "angst with an ok ending"?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocinno/pseuds/mocinno
Summary: Felix joins the Golden Deer, one eye always open for its wry strategist. Claude follows his ambitions, a begrudging swordsman at his side.A story about Felix during GD/Verdant Wind. Tagging as I go.





	1. The Golden Lion

Byleth eyes their students, notebook in one hand and pointer in the other. "Class." They tap the blackboard and the diagram on it once, twice. "I'd like an answer to how you'd approach this scenario."

It's been a long week. After thwarting a Western Church uprising on Monday, they were right back to class on Friday.

Hilda slides her chin down her palm, occasionally jumping awake. Claude twirls a feather pen between his index finger and thumb, occasionally pretending it's a sword and sparring with Raphael across the room. Lysithea dutifully takes notes, while Lorenz and Leonie quietly bicker next to each other about some petty cultural noble-commoner difference.

The feather tickles Claude's nose and he sneezes. Otherwise, there's only silence.

Marianne fidgets in her chair, squeaking out an apology when it makes a noise. Ignatz rubs at the bruise he earned in the last battle while dipping his pen in ink.

After an excruciatingly long period of Byleth staring awkwardly at their sleep-deprived class, Felix raises his hand.

"The best strategy would be to move through the river. It's still summer, so the temperature should be tolerable, and it's thin enough they can move through it quickly enough with their armor off."

Lorenz scrunches his nose. "And soil their uniforms with polluted river water? I think not."

"Who cares about their uniforms? If they don't have a boat, and there're no materials to make a raft, you have to make do with what you have."

"Surely there's--"

"He has a point," Claude sticks his nose up, "oh Legendary Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Nice uniforms aside, if we're in a situation like Teach's saying, we should do whatever we must."

He spares a glance at Byleth, who gives him an approving nod. "Felix and Claude are right, Lorenz. Pragmatism is, to an extent, your greatest asset on a campaign. That aside..." They set down their pointer and notebook and clap both hands together. Hilda snaps to attention, mumbling about being awake. The rest of the Golden Deer squirm. "None of you are paying attention. I'm ending class early. Use this time as you'd like."

They slide into their desk as the students begin to rise. "Be back in time for Hanneman's Crest history lesson next period. And there's a test on Monday on alternative strategy, don't forget to study!"

"Ah, Felix."

Halfway out the door, Felix walks back to Byleth's desk. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to welcome you to the Golden Deer. Today marks a week since you joined the class." They give him a small smile, shaking his hand. "You've caught up nicely. Now, I have a special assignment for you. Extra credit, you'll get three points added to the test coming up."

"What do I need to do?"

From a desk drawer, they pull a small notebook, similar to the one they always carry. "Go to the training hall tomorrow. Shamir's holding a small assorted seminar. I want you to observe and take notes."

He stares at the little yellow book. Was everything from the Golden Deer yellow? "And you're giving this assignment to me because...?"

"It'll teach you in a way I can't." They add after he gives them a blank expression, "I can tell you about my mercenary life all you'd like, but you can only learn so much from me. Watching at the training hall will give you a better firsthand experience."

He pockets the journal with pursed lips.

By the time Felix remembered the yellow book rustling in his pants pocket, it was well into Shamir's seminar. He creaks the training hall doors open.

Petra bounces on her heels as both Dedue and Ferdinand circle her. They jab, she dodges. She jumps and slashes down, Ferdinand blocks her as Dedue braces for the next swing.

Three targets, all riddled with arrows, are lined up on the other side of the hall. Shamir displays knocking an arrow and Claude and Ashe mimic her. 

Shamir turns to the sound of the door and waves Felix in. "The professor told me you'd be coming. To observe, yes? Sit on the steps there, do as you like. Don't get in the way."

He nods, and she returns to Claude and Ashe, nudging their arms here and there till they have the correct posture.

Within seconds, he's bored. His ill-chosen seat is next to a rack of swords, and his hands itch to grab one and let loose.

Petra screams as she jumps off of Ferdinand's spear to strike Dedue, narrowly missing as he rolls away.

Gears grind as Shamir activates a mechanism for moving targets. Her archers miss one shot after another as they try to fire, the targets quickly picking up speed. Arrows litter the floor, and Claude's mouth is filled with curses. Ashe is no better, chanting "heck, heck!" by the time she shuts the machine down.

Felix writes notes here and there. There's more to learn from the lancers, he thinks, watching as Shamir sweeps her spear at Ferdinand's knees. His legs give out, and he picks himself up with a groan. 

Melee was something Felix understood, understood well. The sword was like his third hand. He was never a lance nor ax man, but he still saw the nuances of each blade. What was archery, then?

_ Thunk_. Claude whistles. An arrow is buried in the heart of a target, still spinning from a ceiling fan operated by a cheering Ashe. He had to wonder just how many target machines the training hall had.

It required skill too, of course. Even to have enough strength to pull back a bowstring took effort. Yet, it was not an easy weapon to read.

He flips through the notes he'd taken. 

> Petra
> 
> entire body - loud - flexible
> 
> Dedue
> 
> uses bulk - prob. better with shield - emphasis on arms
> 
> Ferdinand
> 
> faith in opponent - knightly - no "low blows"
> 
> Shamir
> 
> quiet - shots make no sound - a lot of wrist movement
> 
> Ashe
> 
> stiff - elementary
> 
> Claude

Felix runs a finger over the empty section for Claude's name. Every student attending the seminar had obvious quirks to their fighting styles, showing their heritage and background, except Claude. He blamed the archery.

It was obvious, even to Felix, that Ashe was not familiar with the bow. He had a knack for it, but it was not his first weapon. His skills were still rudimentary. 

Claude, though. He was more than deft. He twirled his arrows between shots like they were toys. The bow was like an extension of him.

And there was something off about it. He couldn't quite name what, but the way Claude fired his arrows was_ different. _

Shamir snaps her fingers. "Alright, that's all. I'll see you all next week. Stay here till the bell." The students gratefully sit down.

Claude, conveniently, crashes onto the steps next to Felix. He lays flat on his back on the pavement.

"You fight differently."

"Well, hello, Felix." Claude tilts his head up at him. "How do I 'fight differently,' exactly?"

"It's like how Petra fights like she's from Brigid. Shamir and Dagda. You fight like you're foreign."

"Foreign, huh?" Claude sits up, leaning his hands on his knees and bridging his fingers, giving Felix a proper look for the first time all day. "Guess you could say that."

There's something off about Claude suddenly. Like a million gears are turning in his head, trying to calculate the next words Felix will say.

"I don't care where you're from." Claude's eyebrows raise. "We should spar, though."

"Ahah," he laughs, "you had me scared for a second! But sorry, I'm not much of a sword guy. Or a lance guy, for that matter." The low bong of the cathedral bells ring through the monastery. "Maybe some other time. I'll see you later, Felix."

Claude rises, vanishing with the others as they exit the training hall. Felix follows them, shaking his head.

He grabs his plate, a boar stew with a salad. He passes by Claude, sitting with Byleth and Lysithea. They're chatting about spirits. Some nonsense.

Ignoring Raphael calling him over, he takes his seat next to Sylvain, Ingrid across from them, as always. Ingrid and Sylvain exchange a glance as he sits that he chooses to ignore. "Hello, Felix."

Sylvain takes a bite of his salad as he speaks. "My favorite Golden Lion! How are the Deer treating you?"

"Fine."

"You can elaborate a _ little _more, you know. Like, how is the professor's teaching style?"

"They still teach dynamic warfare for your class. Don't act like they haven't."

"Yeah, but how are they _up close_, eh? I barely see them compared to you, Mr. Golden Lion."

"Stop calling me that."

Ingrid stops eating her soup to ask, "I have to know, how many times have you dueled?"

"Five."

"Jeez, it's barely been a week!" Sylvain twirls his fork and jabs it at Felix. "_You _need to stop being so training obsessed. Live a little, talk to some girls."

"I changed houses to learn from the professor, not to flirt."

"Yeah, yeah. ... Man, I'd join you if I could."

"What do you mean?"

"Hot teacher! But, alas. They haven't asked me yet, and who am I to force myself upon such a fine person as the professor?"

"You do it all the time," Ingrid snaps, flicking a spoonful of soup at him.

"Gah, hot, hot!"

"Now I wasted my stew. Anyway," Ingrid continues, ignoring Sylvain dying, "has Claude been giving you trouble? I know he was causing_ such a_ ruckus last month. Setting the chapel banners on fire 'by accident'? And when he tried to poison us at the mock battle! Honestly."

Felix takes a long minute of slurping his soup and listening to her ramble. "He's strange. I'd like to spar with him, but he refuses to."

"He's a headache, isn't he? Never trains, never tries. As a house leader, he really needs to get his act together."

"He’s hiding something."

Ingrid stops her rant to consider his words. "What do you mean?"

"I was instructed to observe a seminar for an extra assignment. He fights... _ differently_. But it doesn’t show when he’s using a bow." He groans. "It’s why I asked him to spar. If he uses a melee weapon, it’ll be easier to figure out where his fighting style is from."

"Oh. How observant of you.” She smirks are him, quirking an eyebrow. "You’ve always been better with swords than words."

"What does that even mean?"

"You probably said, ‘you, me, duel,’ and scared him off."

"I’m not some caveman."

"Yeah, Ingrid, he’s not some caveman!" Sylvain chips in, apparently finished dying. "He probably said ‘please’ in there somewhere."

"... I didn't, actually."

"Felix, buddy. Get some help. This is why none of the ladies like you."

"Would you quit telling me to harass women?!"

"_Anyway_, good luck figuring Claude out. I know I never will."

Felix grunts as thanks, musing over his stew as Sylvain pours heaps of trashy pick-up lines in one ear and out the other. 

Byleth announced they would be dealing with a skirmish on Friday. Perhaps then he'd see Claude in close-combat. He felt strangely eager for Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a Claude/Felix support chain, but I went a little crazy. Super excited to be sharing it now!!
> 
> Slight headcanon elaboration because it might be confusing: Hanneman, Manuela, and Byleth each teach their own classes, but for some subjects they rotate and teach the other houses. So every house is exposed to all the teachers, but they still grow closer to one "main" teacher.
> 
> This chapter's a lil short and on the mundane side. It'll get better, though! I think!! Chapters will come as I write them. (So basically, whenever OTL).


	2. The First Fight

Felix was able to fight Claude sooner than expected. Thursday was the class' scheduled practical training time.

Byleth closes the doors behind them as they enter the training hall. The Golden Deer are already lined up on one of the benches.

"Alright, my Deer. Last month, we had our tournament; congrats again, Leonie. This month, I want to see more than ‘sword beats axe.’ I want to see your skills put to the test with the unfamiliar!” They put their hands to their hips, beaming with pride at their wary students. “You each have assigned partners _and_ weapons.”

They walk down the bench as they list off names. “Ignatz and Lorenz, swords. Hilda and Raphael, bows. Felix and Claude, swords. Lysithea and Marianne, swords. Leonie, you’ll be rotating, changing weapons as you go.”

”Understood, class? Then go out and show me what you’ve got!”

They nod, grabbing their weapons and finding space.

Felix swings his training sword of choice in the air, getting a feel for its weight. Claude watches him with a simper. “Why am _I_ your partner, again?”

”Way to say hello.” Claude throws an arm around Felix’s shoulder. “Think of it this way: Teach assigned us together. I’m sure they have something up their sleeve.” Felix pushes him off, and he laughs as he steps away, swinging a wooden sword from the rack to his hand. He gives it a disappointed smile. “Wish she would’ve assigned us archery practice, though. I’m sure you’d be good with a bow, given your dexterity. And I’d do better, too.”

”Whatever. Let’s go.”

”So fast, where’s the foreplay?” He laughs at Felix’s scowl, and the duel begins.

...

It ends in three minutes. 

Felix knocks the sword clean from Claude’s hands, and he feels about ready to punch Claude in the jaw.

“You threw the match!”

”Wha-at? No way. You’re just that good with swords.”

”Stop lying and pick up your weapon.”

...

The second match ends when Claude loses his grip and accidentally whacks himself in the shin. He sits coddling his leg as Byleth stares over him and Felix.

”Felix, I want you to branch out more. Adapt your strategy to better suit this opponent. You have the strength advantage, so you're using too much brute force. Claude, you’re doing well, but you can do better.”

“I’m doing my best!”

”You’ve been around Hilda too much.” They wander away, pressing their pen to their bottom lip as they pull out their notebook.

“They’re right.” 

“Huh?”

Felix squats next to him and narrows his eyes. “They know you’re holding back, too. You’re not faking weakness anymore, but you’re not at your full strength, either.”

”Meaning?”

”I want to spar with _you_, not whatever image you’ve made of yourself. As I said, I don’t care where you’re from. It doesn't matter if you're not from around here-- as long as you're a skilled fighter, I'd like to learn from you."

”That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Felix.”

He grunts and pulls Claude up. “Let’s go. Your leg can’t be that bad.”

“You’re right,” Claude responds, flipping his sword up with his foot and catching it midair, “but if I’m following Teach’s advice, you should too.”

”Adjust my fighting style, yes, I heard them.”

”Just making sure!”

...

The third time's the charm.

Felix has the upper hand for most of the fight, on the offense as he strikes with steady slashes. The back and forth is easy, but Byleth’s words echo in his head. Adapt to your opponent.

”Felix.” He turns to Byleth’s voice, narrowly parrying Claude’s sword. “Ooh, I didn’t think that’d work!”

Claude blitzes forward with a flurry of slashes, Felix forced on the defensive as he blocks each attack with tiring arms.

“Don’t try- hah- talking during a- fight!”

”Talking can have its advantages, you know.” Felix looks in Byleth’s direction only to get a face full of training sword.

”Gotcha!”

He stumbles back, gripping his head. “Ugh, two in a row.” He pulls his hand from his face and sees a line of blood trickling down his palm.

”Ooh, that’s not cute.” Claude breathes in through his teeth with a tight smile. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

He wipes his nose again, grunting, and Claude approaches hesitantly. His sword hand is limp at his side.

"Hey," Claude starts, pressing his hand gently against Felix's, "let me see. I'll be able to tell if it's broken." Like a confused puppy, he tilts his head.

His eyes are wide, concerned, and shockingly green.

Felix almost feels bad. In a flash, he swings the flat of his sword and smacks Claude upside the head.

"Oow! What was--!" A light-bulb goes off in Claude's head. "You _sneak!_" He smirks as he rubs his jaw.

"I'm doing what 'Teach' said, to change my fighting style."

Hearing their name, Byleth walks over, notebook already folded open between their fingers. "That was excellent work, both of you. I can't approve of the dirty tactics as a teacher, but as a mercenary, I must applaud you. That was a surprisingly accurate impression of me, Claude. And Felix, you did just as I asked-- you saw your opponent was a schemer," Claude cries in mock offense, "and you realized you would need to play low as well."

"Thanks, Teach."

"Thank you." He brushes two fingers against his nose. "But, ah, Claude did give me a nosebleed."

They lean down and look up at his nose with owlish eyes completely oblivious to the awkwardness. "You're right. Here." They hold their hands in front of them, and white magic flows into his body. "That should slow the bleeding, but you should still take a break. You can rest as well, Claude."

"Alrighty."

Felix sits on the steps, and Claude lands next to him with a satisfied sigh. "Good fight, huh?"

"It was." They shake hands. "But you lied. You said you weren't skilled with swords, yet look at you."

He brushes his neck, giving Felix an abashed but prideful look. "Ah, you're exaggerating. I'm rusty. Haven't picked up a sword in a while-- I'm a bowman."

”Humph. Even so.” He watches the way Claude’s hands move from his neck to his head to his brow, as his tongue runs over his lips, as his bright verdant eyes shimmer at him.

_He’s really pretty._

“No matter how much you look, you won’t find what I’m scheming.” He flushes pink under Felix’s stare.

”Sorry.” He turns his head. “It’s strange. You weren’t holding back, but there was still something off.”

“Hmm?”

”The original reason I wanted to fight you was that I wanted to see your style. Everyone fights differently, and you can tell a million things about a person just by the way they hold a sword.”

Felix gestures as he speaks, trying to mimic shooting an arrow. “I couldn’t tell anything when I was watching you practice the other day. I thought it would be easier if you used a sword, but I still can’t tell.”

Claude’s lips stay sealed, though hundreds of gears click in his head.

”You can argue the fact that I can’t read your fighting is a fact itself, but I won’t stand for that.”

”And I assume you have a plan, oh mighty and intelligent training partner?”

“Everything you do is calculated. So, logically, I’d need to catch you off guard.”

”I’d love to see you try.”

The conversation ends as the monastery bells ring.

”Dismissed! Have a nice day, class.”

The Golden Deer stream out of the hall.

”Felix, hello.” Byleth falls into step next to him. “I wanted to ask something of you.”

”What is it?”

”How would you feel if I started training you in reason magic?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nine chapters now, because I realized my pacing was off (too many pre-ts and not enough post-ts) so things should be a little more balanced. Also, I know I said there'd be updates about every two weeks, but honestly half of this is already drafted. Uploading schedule will probably be really sporadic. Sorry! I don't like sitting on chapters when I have them finished. (Updated last chapter's notes accordingly).
> 
> Interesting things are starting to happen, whoo! I still don't know how to tag this! Next up: Felix's long-awaited Friday doesn't go the way he expected.


	3. In Dire Straits

Felix tracks the clock like a hawk on Friday.

Finally, the day had come. He would be able to see Claude in a real fight, not in the confines of the safe training hall.

The professor was in their room when he found them, sitting and staring at the wall. They conversed with it for a solid two minutes before responding to his voice.

"Felix, come in."

He diligently ignores the strange staring. "When will we be heading to the skirmish?"

They eye their clock. "Not for a while, we've barely had breakfast. Besides, you and Claude have sky watch today."

"... Huh?"

They quirk an eyebrow at his dumbstruck face. "Didn't I tell you? I changed the assignments this week."

"_Why_?"

"Don't give me that look, day patrol is easy."

"It's not the difficulty I'm concerned about--"

"And you'll be back in time for the bandits. They come out only at night, anyway. We'll leave after dinner.”

"That’s not my concern, Professor. I want to know why _I’ve_ been chosen.”

"Simple. Hilda’s started riding a pegasus now, so she doesn’t need the extra practice. You might not need the flying training, but you work well with Claude.”

"I've never flown before in my life. Surely someone else is a better candidate for this than me."

"Enough complaining, Felix." He scrunched his nose at their stony glare. "I'm sure you have things to do before you head out."

* * *

Claude arrives at the stables fashionably late, out of breath and his hair a rat’s nest.

”Took you long enough.”

”I was getting chased by Ingrid.” He tousles his hair to somewhat-presentable and starts to equip his wyvern.

”What did you do _now_?” Claude laughs with his back turned.

”Ah, breathe. She gets mad at me for any little thing. All I did was tell her to smile more. Which, I think, is a fair statement! She’s always frowning at me, so a smile would really lighten her up. Makes me wonder how she got like that, huh, Felix? ... Felix?”

He turns to see Felix staring awkwardly at the riding gear in his hands, twisting and turning it.

”Felix, do you know how to...?”

He continues to fumble with a pile of cords.

”Here.” Claude takes the gear and easily throws it around the wyvern like it’s second nature. He gestures and the wyvern calmly opens its mouth for the bit. “Next time, just ask.” It lifts its wings for him to tie the saddle and Felix nearly gets whacked in the face.

”Thanks.”

”Now that they’re suited up, it’s our turn.”

...

”Hey, you know how to mount a Fódlan wyvern, right?” Claude speaks as he stretches down to his toes, moving nimbly in the wyvern rider’s uniform.

Felix feels, overall, terribly stupid in the wyvern rider’s decorative wing armor and bulky metal chest plate. “I assume they’re like a horse.”

”Nope.” Pointing at the floor, the wyvern lowers its head and Claude jumps onto the saddle. “Keep your legs in front of the wings, and don’t use the stirrups to mount. Those are the two best tips you can know as a beginner.”

Felix does as told, gesturing to the wyvern. It bows and he awkwardly tugs himself onto the saddle.

Claude leans forward on his wyvern, laying his arms on its neck and his chin on his hands. “I see you’ve never ridden a beast before.”

There’s a strange lilt in his voice, one Felix can’t decode, so he doesn’t.

”I haven’t. I was also unaware I’d be assigned this until... three hours ago.”

”Ah. Get excited, then!” He sits up, grabs the reins, and gestures to the flight gate. “Just through here.” His eyes glitter with excitement, and Felix has a sinking feeling there's a scheme up his sleeve.

With all the grace a wyvern can manage, it meanders through the gates and into an open courtyard. Felix follows, with significantly less ability. His wyvern cocks its head at him with a confused wyvern-glare as he bumps into the gateway.

”You ready?” Claude slaps down his helmet visor, and Felix does the same.

”We’re off!”

* * *

Felix squeezes his wyvern’s sides in a futile attempt to catch up to Claude. “Would you- slow- down?!”

He finally reaches Claude, twirling his reins in his fingers like he had all day. “Sure. What do you need?”

He yanks off his helmet to scold. ”We’re supposed to be patrolling _together_. I can’t do that when you’re leagues ahead of me. Where even are we? There's no way this is in the patrol grounds anymore."

”Ah, sorry!” Claude pops up his visor solely to give him a cheeky grin, putting his hands under his chin like a cutesy schoolgirl. “Can’t help showing off a little. Wyvern riding’s something I’ve always been skilled at.”

Felix stares at the reins in his rock-solid grip, at Claude’s dangling loosely in the air as he talks, and back again. Where in the Goddess’ name did Claude learn to fly so confidently?

“Whoa, whoa.” He stops bragging at the sound of crackling in the forest below. “Do you hear that...?” He pulls the reins up and his wyvern grunts back, flapping in place. Claude huffs, and he suddenly pulls his feet from his stirrups to stand atop his saddle and scan the trees.

Felix looks at his boots, firmly planted in his stirrups, at Claude's casually balanced on his wyvern's saddle, and back again.

_What the hell? Seriously, what the hell?_

“Some birds just flew away over there. We should check that out. It could be ruffians.”

"Bandits pass by the monastery all the time. The Knights will take care of it.”

"Yes, but look,” Claude points to the direction of the smoke, “that’s suspiciously close to a village, don’t you think? And pretty far from the monastery. I don’t think the regular patrol reaches there.”

Claude reseats himself in his saddle and grabs his reins. “We should at least see, right?”

"Don't fly too fast this time."

"I won't, promise!"

...

"There they are." Felix points below as they circle a gap in the trees. "I can see three. One of them is carrying a villager."

He exchanges a glance with Claude.

"What weapons do you have?"

Claude pats his pockets. "The patrolling sword the Knights gave us, a hunting dagger, and a couple of poisons."

Holding the reins in one hand, he draws the sword from his back. 

“Have you ever used these in an actual fight?”

”Never. Hilda always took us through the safest paths.”

”I don't trust these swords, but we need to save the civilian.”

”Of course.”

”You’re better with the wyvern— can you fly down and get a glance at their numbers without being seen?”

”I can try.” The wyvern folds its wings inward and dives down.

He watches as the shadow soars over the clearing. It pulls up, and Claude shakes his head.

”About four bandits and a young boy.”

”Okay. We can do that.”

“... You should get off.”

”_Excuse_ me?”

“You’re awful at riding, I don’t want to see you fight flying. Get your wyvern low enough that you can jump off. Then, ambush them. In the middle of the fighting, I’ll swoop down, get the villager, and support you from the air. When you want your wyvern back whistle like this,” he hums, “and wait.”

”Is this the grand Golden Deer strategist in action?”

”What, too bold of me to assume you can take four guys at once?”

”No. But, I’ve heard rumors about your strategies. You have a lot to live up to.”

”Allow me to impress you, then.”

Felix quirks an eyebrow and dives down as Claude did.

He lands well... enough. The tree he half falls into is thankfully smooth enough to partially slide down, and the rustling of the branches is hidden by wind. He drops his helmet mid-climb, but it falls with a soundless thud.

His boots land on hard dirt.

Two bandits stand outside the hut. Chunky, poorly made axes sit at their hips.

They walk back and forth in front of the hut. Another stands at the back, leaning against the wall.

She’s the easy target. He lunges at her before she can draw her axe, and his sword cleanly slides into her chest and through her gambeson.

Her body hits the ground with a thud. From the front, he hears footsteps. The other bandits. “What was that?” Three people, now, likely all armed.

One of them shouts and hits the ground. The remaining two crawl towards the back of the hut as a certain schemer runs through the front door.

He meets the bandits as he turns the corner. He parries the first, and the man's club smacks him in the face. As he reels back, Felix stabs him through the neck. The other barbarian slashes him in the calf. He rounds on her, striking upwards. Her sword flies out of her hands and his-- his _breaks_. For a moment he's defenseless until he remembers his hands. Her jaw cracks under his fist, and she falls.

He snatches the bandit's sword and races to the hut.

_Another_ bandit has her back turned to him, the large and unwieldy club held high above her head. In front of her is the villager and at his side is Claude, sword at the ready. The club comes swinging down.

There’s a loud thunk.

Claude crumples. Felix jabs his sword into the bandit’s back, and she topples next to an unconscious Claude.

He turns to the village boy, wide-eyed and horrified. “Hey. Are you okay?”

”Y-yes...!” 

“Can you walk home?”

”I-I don’t wanna! The woods are dark and scary!"

“Let’s go, then.” He grabs Claude by the armpits and hauls him into a bridal carry. For a moment he considers the possibility of riding to the village, imagines making a fool of himself in front of a child, and decides otherwise. “Get a torch. I’ll walk you back.”

Above, their wyverns fly over them. Felix prays he can remember the whistle Claude taught him.

...

”There you are.”

”Thank you, sir. Uhm, a word of advice.” He looks up at Felix with wide eyes. “You shouldn’t trust people like him.” He points to Claude, still limp in his arms. “_Those_ people are the kind that turn into bandits.”

A moment passes before the words register, and Felix wrinkles his nose in disgusted and dumbstruck shock.

”You know he saved your life tonight, right? I didn’t get there fast enough. It’s _because_ of _him _that you’re still alive.”

The boy pouts. “I du-unno, Mama always says the Almyrans are big meanies, and I trust her more than you. 

”... Okay. Now go home.”

He runs off into the village, torch still burning bright as he turns the corner and vanishes from sight. 

“Thank you, mister!!”

Felix smiles despite himself. He wanders away from the village, watching the wyverns soar overhead. Reaching a clearing, he presses his fingers to his mouth and whistles.

Both wyverns soar downwards, landing neatly in front of him. He silently thanks the body in his arms.

"Idiot, idiot," Felix grumbles as he heaves Claude onto the wyvern, "why'd you have to go and get knocked out?"

He stares at the body, tied awkwardly to the reins and saddle. The image of Claude slipping off, blissfully unaware, makes him blink.

He unties Claude and moves him to his wyvern.

The ride is lopsided, Claude's body sliding here and there as Felix tries to fly. Claude’s wyvern follows diligently next to them. Still, he manages to fly better than earlier. Probably because there’s no one to nag him.

”You're a fool. Why in the world did you put yourself in the way of a _club_? You had a sword!”

The sun starts to hide itself in the treeline. Felix’s eyes ever narrow for oncoming birds.

”You had a strategy planned out as well. I don’t know how you managed to get knocked out.”

He pulls at the reigns with one hand, the other pressed lightly against Claude's chest to keep him steady. "And why was that kid so judgemental? Brat doesn't understand the value of life."

The familiar forest starts to come into view; knights bearing torches carry their balls of light through the trees. "It is because of you that we saved him, at least. It could have turned out a lot worse. But, agh!" He almost drops Claude in anger. "The skirmish! We definitely missed it! You and your rushing ahead."

"Huh?" Claude wakes with a raspy voice. "Huh?!" His yelp startles Felix's wyvern, and it ruffles its wings, nearly bucking them off. It soars upward, still shaking its wings and now starting to scream.

"Stay still, Claude! Gah, this was so much easier when you were UNCONSCIOUS!" His voice raises to a shout as the wyvern continues to twist, suddenly turning on its side.

Claude, attached to nothing, easily slides off the saddle. He grabs wildly at Felix, snagging his sleeve and pulling him down with him.

Luckily enough, they were already over Garreg Mach. Unfortunately, they were catapulting very, _very_ close to the cold, hard pavement outside the mess hall. All the while, the two boys _screamed._

"We're going to die because of you, idiot!"

"Insults, later! Plans to not die, now!" He twists himself onto his stomach, yanking Felix into doing the same.

Felix reaches his hand out below him, and Claude scrambles to cling onto his other arm. "Your hands won't break the fall!"

"Shut up so I can focus!"

Byleth's words float through his mind. _How did you end up so weak with this, anyway? Your father is quite skilled in reason magic. ... Oh, that's fine. I'll push you to your limit nonetheless, though._

Nope, wrong words. He digs deeper.

_Reason magic is about making the world yours. Grab the world in your fist and set it free. Even a tiny piece of the universe, in your hands, can be unstoppable. _ _Breathe in, breathe out, and capture it. You have a natural affinity for this, so even though you haven't trained in it, you should be able to sense it. _

Electricity fizzles in his hands before sparking out. "Damn it, damn it! Claude, come here." He pulls Claude in by his sleeve, so his arm is wrapped around Claude's middle. "I'm going to do something dangerous."

"Can't get worse than this."

Felix reaches his hand out again, breathing deeply. 

_Focus_. _Losing concentration is the easiest way to die._

His hand sparks and pops. Lightning bursts forth, flying towards the fishing hut by the pond. Several things happen at once. The hut explodes with the force of the lightning, and the air fills with the sick scent of burnt fish. The impact is strong enough to hurtle Felix and Claude, still clinging to each other for dear life, towards the pond. Byleth, wandering the monastery as they waited for their late students, watches as said students rocket towards the water and land, sending a wave rushing over the dock.

They watch, amused, with wet boots and water-sprayed hair, as the students bob up in the water and paddle towards the shore.

"Claude, Felix!" Byleth reaches their hands out to lift both boys of the water. "I'm glad to see you both... I can't say unharmed. Alive? Yes, alive. I'm glad you're both alive."

Neither utters a response, too busy hacking out water and trying to breathe.

"I'll get the full story from you after Manuela treats you two."

A crowd of students and teachers rush out of the mess hall, drawn by the crackle of thunder on a clear afternoon. Expecting an epic storm or a horrible beast (based on the vicious, high-pitched shrieking), most of them are disappointed by a single burning hut and two soaked students. Sylvain, for his part, cackles out a laugh before reentering the dining hall. 

Byleth squats down and takes the boys onto their shoulders. They walk casually past the remaining crowd of students, through the monastery, and dump them onto the infirmary cots. Manuela chases her, being the good nurse she is.

Their armor slips off easily enough, though some clasps and buttons are tucked between seaweed-covered cloth.

"Thank you, Professor. You can return to your dinner now--"

They shake their head. "These are my students. I can't leave them." The prompt answer leaves Manuela silenced. "I'm yet weak in healing magic, though. I'll get you towels from the washroom."

...

Felix coughs water into a bucket for two minutes, Claude for five. Byleth's toweling-down feels more like a shakedown than a caring teacher looking out for their students. They both earn hearty scoldings from Manuela, Felix for his cut and Claude for his what-could’ve-very-possibly-been-a-concussion.

"You know," Claude muses, wiping his mouth, "I think we might be in trouble." His eyes flicker to Byleth, sitting in their chair, watching them with ominous energy. Manuela tuts and presses her staff into his back. He coughs into the bucket once more. "Professor Manuela, I'm fine. Please stop."

She frowns. "Alright, but if you're having difficulties breathing, call me over. The same goes for you, Felix."

He pushes himself up onto his elbow. "How long are we going to be here?" His voice is still raspy from the water.

"For the night. You need to rest up until then. ... Actually, look at the time. I have a special meeting. I think they'll be fine, Professor, but if you wanted to stay a moment longer, that's fine."

"I planned to, yes." Manuela claps her hands together. She exchanges goodbyes with Byleth and closes the door with a click behind her.

"Boys."

Claude and Felix gulp. 

"I'll need to speak with Seteth, but I don't think he's happy you set the fishery house on fire. The staff who run it won't be happy, either. There will be consequences. Also, you're both excused from tonight's skirmish, of course."

"Teach, you haven't even asked what happened yet."

"I haven't, but I think I already know. You won't be reprimanded for your actions tonight, but next time there's an issue on patrol, you are, as students, obligated to tell an officer." Byleth puts a hand to their chin in thought.

"Oh! Felix." They snap their fingers. "I wanted to congratulate you on your use of magic. As a teacher, I'm proud of the practical application of your classroom knowledge. Also as a teacher, I'm disgusted. Proper magic uses summoning circles. Raw magic like you used is not only barbaric but dangerous to your body, and it's certain to leave a permanent mark. _And_ the magic you used is far too powerful for your current level. Never do that ever again."

“Professor Manuela said you’d be fine, but if there’s an issue, scream.”

They rise from their seat and open the door. “You sure can shriek.”

Claude exchanges a glance with Felix.

“I guess we made a name for ourselves.”

”Oh, what makes you say that?”

”I wasn’t really conscious, but I think Teach carried us here. I’m sure that got some looks.”

”And the screaming.”

”And setting the fishing hut on fire.”

”Hey, it saved us.”

”True, I can’t critique that.”

Felix flops back onto his pillow. “I figured out why I couldn’t read your fighting style, though.”

“Ooh, I’m invested in this, do tell!”

”Flying. You’ve spent more time in the air than on foot, haven’t you? And the reason you fought plainly no matter the weapon is that _any_ weapon looks different in the air compared to on foot.”

”Think you’ve figured me out, have you?”

”Yes.”

”Hah! Where I’m from, flying is like... second nature. You learn young. Finally earning your wyvern is like a rite of passage.”

“I see.”

”You’re not half bad, Felix. I assumed from the rumors you’d be all that and a bag of swords, but you’re just some guy.”

“Is that a compliment?”

”Can be. Anyway!” He clears his throat and thumps his chest. “All this talking is hurting my throat. Watery lung and whatever. I’m gonna tuck in.”

”Before you do, tell me what happened with the bandits."

"Meaning...?"

"Why did you block the club with your head?"

"Ah, that. Not my finest moment. ... You used the patrolling sword, didn't you?"

"Of course. I didn't have anything else."

"Did you notice, then, how fragile they are?"

"MIne snapped, but it wasn't awful."

"Well, they were like paper. At least, mine was. I could tell it would shatter with a single blow, and I didn't want to risk the shards hitting the child."

"Oh."

The bed creaks as Claude rolls onto his side.

"I'm calling you my new mischief partner."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Talking in my sleep! Cough, cough, see, still dying, goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude: has like one (1) line about wyvern riders in Almyra  
Me: wyvern riders are the Cool Boys of Almyra no take backs
> 
> Next chapter: Felix is still allowed to use magic, for some reason.


	4. Magic and Power

Felix fits in well with the gangly, discordant mess that is the Golden Deer.

After one strange occurrence, Lysithea foists onto him a continuous stream of cake that he _does not want. _He and Byleth spar whenever their schedule allows it, and together with Leonie, they form the house’s makeshift training club. Though she squeals at him each time he comes near, Marianne is an excellent healer, and he thanks her in kind each time.

He stays in touch with Sylvain and Ingrid. Sylvain starts riding a horse into battle, peering over Felix with an arrogant grin every time they pass each other. Ingrid takes to the sky on a pure white pegasus; occasionally she’ll wave to him while on her far more successful flight patrols.

One eye is always on Dimitri.

His contact with Claude had been minimal since their incident. He can't tell if it's intentional on the professor's part.

He fidgets his pencil between his fingers as Byleth runs through the latest lecture.

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion was coming. Every class prepares rigorously; they were ready to fight and _win_. Even the usually sporadic Deer had only one goal in mind: beat the other houses.

"How many of you know what a ballista is? Bolt thrower, maybe?"

Lorenz's hand shoots up. "It's a catapult or crossbow, used for extreme long-range attacks."

"Precisely, Lorenz. There's mainly crossbows in this region, but there are also magic launchers and other variations." On the board, they draw a rough outline of an open field. "This is Gronder Field, where the Battle of the Eagle and Lion will be held. At its center, on this," they squiggle out a rectangle, "wood platform here, there's a powerful crossbow. Now, if our forces were here, and... the Blue Lions were there, and the Black Eagles are here, what would you do? Raphael, I saw you first."

"Storm the platform, Professor! The ballistae could be a threat to our fliers."

"Anyone else?"

"Well, Teach," Claude starts in a suave voice, reminding Felix irritatingly of Sylvain, "I'd say the ballistae's an easy target. There'll definitely be a trap waiting for us. I'd go around the platform, spring the trap waiting for us there when they least expect it." He snaps his fingers as if a light-bulb turned on over his head. "_And_ part of their forces will be busy with the Lions there, so we'll overwhelm them with sheer numbers!"

"Two different strategies. Straight forward, or roundabout. Which is better?"

Felix raises his hand to his mouth in a yawn. "Felix?"

"I wasn't raising my hand."

"Felix?"

"... The direct approach is easier. Ballistae have a large range, and it'll seriously impede our fliers till it's taken."

"Ah, but look at our class. Only one of us fly-- me. Is it worth the risks the forward assault brings?"

"You're our commander. Keeping you intact will mean fewer casualties down the line."

"Really?" From across the room, Claude leans forward at his desk to give Felix a doubtful frown. "Are the potential losses from a straight-on attack really worth making one person's life _slightly_ easier?"

"Do you mean to say you'd put me at risk and fulfill your strategy instead?"

He hesitates, forming soundless words as he thinks. "I wouldn't put it that way, but the needs of many are greater than the needs of one. And besides, you can shore up our back line."

"Interesting. ... There's the bell. You're dismissed. Have a good day, class."

Someone leans their elbow against Felix's shoulder as he leaves. Or at least, they try, but they're so short it's more like he's receiving a strange back massage.

"Felix!" Hilda's bright voice makes his ears ring.

"What."

"You remember your patrol accident, right?"

"It was the biggest event of Blue Sea Moon."

"Of course. Anyway, I heard from Claude that his sword was all flimsy, but you said yours was fine." He raises an eyebrow. "Or, like, normal flimsy, not super flimsy. Now," she puts her palms up in innocence, "I'm not naming any names, but don't you think it's possible someone purposely sabotaged him?"

"I didn't consider it."

"But I did!" Hilda steps in front of him, politely blocking his path. "Sooo! I put in all this work to find out who it was." She hands him a small stack of papers with the same bright smile. "Won't you do a sweet girl like me a favor?"

"What am I supposed to do? If someone's out to sabotage Claude, it's not my problem."

"Get the kid to fess up. That's all. I worked sooo hard gathering all this evidence." The papers flap as she shakes them. "A written confession would be ideal."

He takes the papers, begrudgingly. "Tell me again why I should do this."

"Because we both care about Claude, and he's being harassed and won't do anything about it."

...

"Ugh... Why did I accept this...?" Felix brushes his fingers through his hair, Hilda's stack of paper in his other hand. 

He didn't think much of Hilda when he first joined the Golden Deer. He still didn't, really. She was the house layabout, the notorious gossip, the first to pass of her chores and the last to pick up the slack. Yet there he stood, her well-researched notes in his hands. It was a thorough packet, full of chicken scratch and crossed off lines, stains of spilled tea, poorly drawn scribbles, and clearly stolen notebook scraps.

Perhaps there was something more to the professor's words from moons ago. _"You’ve been around Hilda too much." _ The statement went both ways, for Claude and Hilda, after all.

The perpetrator's name is highlighted, circled, and starred. Arielle von Edgar. Member of the Golden Deer from Goneril territory.

He finds her drinking tea with a gaggle of girls.

"Uh, what? Why would I do something like that? I'm not a jerk. Unlike some people," she scoffs and the girls around her giggle in unison, "I just love our house leader!"

Felix groans. "Look, I have proof, okay?" He pulls from his pockets a neatly folded sheet of paper. "This has been identified as your handwriting-- dropped on the classroom floor. It says, 'fake sword in my room; switch with C's at 6am.'"

"Oh, please." She flicks her wrist, teacup in hand. Some liquid splashes onto his sleeve, and he resists the urge to walk away. "That's circumstantial evidence at best."

"I have more." He yanks out several more leaflets. "Here's a transcript from your tea time on Horsebow Moon 6th. Essentially, you mock Claude for falling for your trap and getting hurt."

"H-how did you...!"

"Don't ask." He cringes at the idea of explaining Hilda's plan. "All I need you to do is admit you did it." From his infinite pockets, he pulls out a parchment prepared by Hilda. "Sign this."

> On the 28th of Blue Sea Moon, I purposely put a fake sword in place of an iron sword used for flight patrols. This directly led to Claude von Riegan's injury in Blue Sean Moon and indirectly led to Claude and Felix Hugo Fraldarius' incident with the fishing house.
> 
> x ______

"Ugh, seriously?" Arielle cringes at the paper and looks at her classmates with equally disgusted faces. "Fine, I'll sign your dinky little paper. But it won't change anything. He's still a dirty little Almyran." She holds a hand to her mouth in a snicker. 

He walks away with their laughter echoing behind him.

...

"You know, you two." Byleth's laugh is twinkly, like a song trapped in a bottle. "I'm quite proud of you for doing this."

"Hilda did most of the work."

"Aww, you're too generous. It was really _Felix_ who did all this." She bats her eyelashes. "I didn't do much."

"Whoever did the work doesn't matter. The fact that you were smart enough to come forth about this is enough." They spin their feather pen between their fingers. "Perhaps this goes against the idea of doing good only for the sake of it, but..."

"You're so sweet for letting me skip the upcoming skirmish, Professor!" They huff and nod, writing down Hilda's request as she skips away.

"I assume _you_ don't want to sit out?"

"No. I want to ask, actually, if we can resume our magic lessons."

* * *

"What is _this_?" Laughter bubbles from Claude's chest as he enters the training hall. "I figured Teach would make magic strictly off-limits for you after the lightning incident."

Felix stands in the training grounds, his hands forward and a magical sigil in front of him. His eyes focus on the training dummy in front of him, bright white magic glowing around its limbs.

Sweat drips down his brow as the dummy steps forward. It slices the shamshir taped to its hand through the air, with a swing wide enough to make him step back. 

“Hello!” Claude shouts, and Felix’s concentration is suddenly broken.

Mid-swing, the dummy comes to a sudden stop. The momentum continues, ripping the sword off and sending the blade flying at Claude.

He dodges, barely, turning a cheeky smile to the sword embedded in the wood next to his head.

"Damn! Don't startle me." Felix kicks his boot onto the door as he starts to pull out the blade. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"What, I can't stop by my favorite scheming partner?"

"We've had _one_ 'scheme,' and it wasn't even intentional. I only did it so we wouldn't die."

"Ah, but makeshift, try-not-to-die plans can be good too. My mischief partner!"

He finally unjams the sword, pointing it dangerously close to Claude's neck. "If you're only going to distract me, then get out."

"I want to know-- huh?" Claude's eyes flicker to Felix's arms. "There's something there," he pushes up Felix's sleeve, "that wasn't there before. These are..."

Felix yanks up his sleeve and holds out his hand. Thin, lightning-patterned scars run up the length of his forearm. "From our _scheme._ Professor said I used Bolting magic, apparently. I shouldn't be able to use it, especially with my skill level, but," he pulls his sleeve down, "so be it."

"How cute."

“Thanks.” 

Felix levels Claude with a bored stare as he rocks on his heels. His mind drains of all words as his eyes trace the crackling scar and red flesh. He can almost hear the spark of lightning as it rocketed through Felix's arm. "You know, Felix. I never did thank you for saving us back then. So, thank you." He bows, and when he rises up, Felix's eyes have narrowed to an irritated glare.

"Prove it."

"Ah, I'd do anything!" Claude smiles whimsically, lilting, "I'd do anything at all to repay you. I'm only exaggerating slightly."

"Spar with me."

"Eh? I was thinking more like a--"

"Spar with me or get out."

"Alright, alright. Let me go and grab a training sword."

"Use a real one."

"... I don't see why I should? Seteth is already going to be angry about that door, you know."

"I haven't been able to go all out in a while." He flexes his fingers, reddish scars dancing with his skin as he stretches. "The professor's put a ban on me using magic outside of training until this fully heals. I need to practice using a combination of magic and swordplay."

"And you're asking me to work with you behind Teach's back. This sounds suspiciously like a scheme."

Felix shrugs, hiding his expression as he walks to the training hall wall. "Actually, here." He tosses Claude a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows.

"You don't throw quivers!" He exclaims, after pulling it over his head. "If I didn't have good reflexes, we would be playing fifty-two pickup with arrows."

"I thought it was thirty-two pickup."

"Whatever," he mutters, twirling the bow between his hands, "excessive-number-of-small-objects pickup. So you want this to be a magic and archery competition?

"It can be."

Felix flexes his hand and sparks pop around it.

"These are rubber, right?" He flicks an arrow tip with his finger. "I don't want to actually kill you, you know."

"I don't want to die, either."

"Great!" Claude nocks an arrow. "On with it, then."

Felix yanks his head back as an arrow whizzes past. Finally, Claude was acting with his arrows instead of his words.

The swordsman moves his fingers in careful arcs, and electricity from the air imbues itself into his sword for a brief moment. Sparks fly as he slashes towards Claude, who notches a quick arrow that bonks him in the head. 

He rubs his forehead. “Damn. I saw Lysithea doing that with ice magic, so I thought I could do it too. My reaction time is too slow when I use magic.”

“There’s one problem,” Claude answers with a bemused smile, “she’s a genius mage and you’re a swordsman with a knack for electricity fires.”

The words are enough to send sparks flying again, this time his blade sliding against the polished guard of Claude’s bow.

For a ranged weapon, Claude uses it strangely like a melee tool, parrying and even slapping Felix over the head multiple times with the ends of the bow.

Felix ponders whether Claude would be good with an actual sword. He’s already more than good enough with a makeshift blade. He twists the handle in a contorted way. Felix’s eyes are so focused on the arrow point staring him down that he goes blind to the riser of the bow moving to smack his sword out of his hands.

He looks up and his chest heaves. Claude has him pinned, the arrow notched and dangerously close to his neck. 

He stands, with the archer’s permission.

"I win! So let’s talk," Claude spins the now loose arrow in his hand, "I was going to ask, what were you doing with that training dummy?"

"Moving it with magic. I want to spar by myself."

"Huh. Interesting. Why _do_ you train so much, anyway?"

"To get stronger. What, do I need more of a reason?"

"No, no. I'm a curious cat, that's all. See," he begins, and Felix rolls his eyes, "with your skill level, you could spend your days in leisure without any worry about falling behind. No one trains _just_ to get stronger. Surely there’s, I don’t know, someone you’re seeking vengeance for? Someone you’re looking to defeat? Or perhaps, you have a death wish…?”

Felix grits his teeth. “There was someone... I couldn't win against him, and then he died. In that sense, there is someone I wish I could defeat.”

“You fight recklessly, too.”

“No death wish, though.” His smile for Claude is papery and sarcastic. "Unlike some people here. And you. Why are you training?"

"Ah, ah, someone _not_ calling me lazy?"

"I've seen you in the library long after hours. Hilda's good at hiding it for you, but you have awful eye bags every other week."

"Good to know my, hmm, favorite _sparring _partner cares about me. I may as well tell you. I have a lot of ambitions because of how I grew up. Big ones, too, ones I’ll need power for. I’ll need strength to get the authority I need for them.”

"... We're similar, then." Felix tilts his head to his hands, eyes firmly focused on the steel blade. "Instead of a mischief partner, why not be sparring partners?"

Claude's eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth drops. "Whoa, did _not_ expect a positive response to that nickname. But, you know what? Why not. You'll be my new sparring partner!" He grabs Felix's hands and shakes. "Goddess knows how many times you've saved my skin already."

“It’s only because you don’t watch yourself well enough.”

“Are you insulting your house leader?”

“Yes.”

“... You’re an odd one, Felix.”

“Enough _talk__. _” He groans, tossing Claude a training sword as he takes one of his own. “Let’s go. We haven't sparred with just swords in a while."

“Alright, alright. But I am an archer first and a swordsman second!"

"Maybe we'll do an archery competition next."

"I'd like to see you try!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this fic isn't dead? No, it's not!
> 
> This was the B-support in the original drafts. Oh, how times have changed. :')
> 
> Next chapter: The boar unmasked.


End file.
